


love will tear us apart

by slugbait



Category: My Chemical Romance, The Used
Genre: Gen, also rape tw for. like a sentence, also this sucks but ..... like???? so, i finally got inspiration to write, i like angst, like i don't mention anyone by name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 07:21:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19389238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slugbait/pseuds/slugbait
Summary: gerard is the devil and frank comes to realize that he doesn't mind





	love will tear us apart

**Author's Note:**

> so like..... 600 words of pure shit,

Waking up to your ex in your arms is a punch in the gut. Finding a heavenly deity in something short of the devil, the irony fills you like the metallic taste of blood inside your mouth. Beating your fists against the pavement because– _oh my **god–**_ I can't remember what it felt like or how long it took for the tire tracks on my heart to fade. Yanking your own hair out because– _Jesus fucking Christ_ –I'm about to snap into fifteen different pieces. Taking a sharpie to all of your pictures in hope of marking out _him_ , marking out the very fucking _sin_ that consumed him. 

Next thing you know you're flying down the highway at 100 mph and you can feel your heart beating in your chest and the blood rushing in your ears as he touches your legs and tells you sweet nothings with his silver tongue. _Please_ you almost beg _Please don't leave again._ You know it's just for the night; the animal in you is clawing from inside out. You lose your breath when he turns the curve and the wheels come off the ground. The fleeting thought that appears out of nowhere. _I can't die here, not with you. With anyone but you._ You can't help but to glare as he laughs at your reaction. Of course, the devil senses your fear.

Later that night you remember the stringy, black hair that fell into his face and laughed like you weren't there _suffering._ Suffering because you couldn't stand being in the room with him and his little brother as heat radiated off of him and made you want to spend the night in his arms. You couldn't see the other's face but you always knew his gaze was locked across the room to the rambunctious man sitting on a bar stool across the room. When he excused himself the pit in your stomach just grew bigger and bigger; you knew exactly who he was headed to. You couldn't take sitting there much longer, you saw their exchange and the flirting, sitting by his little brother didn't help much either. 

You escaped through a backdoor somewhere, sweat now dripping off your face. The feeling inside you made you uneasy– _maybe this was true jealousy_. Your stomach was weak and you just couldn't handle the feeling of bile rising in your throat. You fall to your knees and gag, seeing the image of some other man with him. In the end, he'd always be the first one to walk away. Yet, you still held onto the childish hope that he would go back to you, beg for forgiveness, say he could never find god in anyone else. You'd be happy with the bullshit excuse, of course you would, you'd never stay mad at him. Sometimes you saw yourself as a complete and utter fool, he would always take advantage when your guard was down. It was a mere routine, but you were occasionally happy.

Nothing was a better wake up call than when a strange man held you down and made you do nasty things. The stranger held you down and made you show him the world while you experienced hell. You remembered the scriptures he told you as you sat in the shower later that morning, scrubbing your skin until it was raw. There was a moment of clarity and realized all the bullshit he had promised you; of course it was a lie, he was known for nothing else. You realize how much time you had wasted with someone who'd never change. 

Now you let yourself fall back into old habits, pretending he still loves you. It's obvious he'll be gone in the morning without a goodbye. He refrained from kissing you, from entering that old stage of intimacy. _Maybe he feels bad,_ you tell yourself, but you don't know if you want an answer. You feel like you're tainting _him_ somehow, not the other way around. You feel like a knife is being driven deeper into your chest, puncturing your heart and you can't fight against it because you can't fight against him. 


End file.
